#steph's like 'fuck off' and kara's like 'steph your mask'

[whereflowersbloom]

Alfred’s farewell

The sky had begun gloomy since even before the sun had the chance to rise. Mist was overshadowing the city of Gotham, and drops of dew are still littering every surface. The birds were unusually quiet, nestling safely under the warmth of their nest. A large group of grey clouds lingering above the place, promising unpleasant weather to deal with later on. Lighting crackled in the grey sky and snatched away any hope of a golden day. Only songs of sadness spread around, feeling the sorrow taking place. Even the world is holding its breath and everything is still, the earth seemed to be mourning as well the unexpected loss. The atmosphere was exceptionally dark and lifeless, each face filled with silent and bitter grief and regret. Tears do not fall, there’s a blackhole forming in place of his heart. This date…this date would be burned into his soul for the rest of his existence, it would be a permanent reminder to himself of how foolish he was, how everything…could change in matter of seconds. Seconds only a few more seconds would have made the difference. The tree that was once full of life, the one Alfred looked after kindly, because he planted it himself after coming to work for Thomas and Martha Wayne, was now barren as the weather grew colder and the icy wind blew the leaves away.

There’s people gathering, familiar faces and unknown ones. The solemn mode had settled between them, and soon the ceremony comes to an end. It’s time to say farewell.

Will I always, from now on, be this cold? Was Pennyworth really gone? He didn’t dare to pronounce his name. He discerned the sounds of footsteps slowly fading away and all that was heard afterwards was the thud of knees hitting the ground. Grayson. Even Dick was so lost and crushed, the man who always looked so high-spirited and brave, so even-tempered and filled with honor, seemed so weak now.

“Alfred, I am so sorry…” Richard whispered with a low-pitched and desperate sob as he caressed the stone with his trembling hand. His face, marred for life, had an even more painful expression plastered on his face as tears started to fall slowly onto the dirt. But it’s not your fault. Damian wanted to let him know. He wasn’t there to stop it. Unlike you his mind whispered.

Jason Todd remained silent. Todd had always been quick to emotion in general, to tears when someone else was sad, to contagious laughter when their siblings were smiling, quick-tempered, choleric when provoked. Surprisingly an empathetic sensitive soul, spent many years alone, hungry for tenderness and familial ties. And yet he was wearing an expressionless mask, but his body betrayed his affliction, shaking so badly that Tim had to grasp tightly at his arms to prevent him from going down. Drake. Tim was clearly having so much invisible burden on his shoulders. His curved jaw clenching tight, and his dark blue eyes cast downwards and unblinking. He didn’t have his daily cup of black coffee. No, he didn’t have a single drop of his precious caffeine today. He kept his head low the entire ceremony, maybe he didn’t have the heart to look up at the crying mess everyone was. Perhaps he thought somebody had to tough it out, specially considering Father’s absence.

Stephanie standing close to him, blonde curls dancing with the autumn wind, biting her lips the entire time. Stephanie who tried to be strong and now, after holding in for too long, the tears break out like a leaking dam. She was devastated and weeped openly, clinging to Tim’s coat as if her life depended on it, as if she were drowning, the sight made the hole in Damian’s chest squeeze around his heart. Guilt. Distress.

Cassandra was hardly moving from her spot. She had a deep crease on her brow, and face as hard as rock. She hugged herself in the arms, shielding her frame from the icy wind, when Duke swiftly placed his Armani cashmere coat on her shoulders, her hands were going cold, and the moment Duke noticed the way she shivers with small movements. He considerately held them between his, providing temporary warmth, trying to find some kind of comfort in each other, but Cassandra avoided making eye contact with anyone, her mind was really blank as a void. Possibly still attempting to process the reality. Duke Thomas, the only one that hasn’t lost his mind amid this consequent emotional instability, drops of tears still hanging from the corner of his eyes, while the rests were slowly drying on his cheeks. Damian wasn’t exactly close to Duke but he wondered how he managed to carry on. Where did he find the strength to persist? Damian walked closer to the tombstone, feeling resignation seep into his bones.

Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth, beloved father, grandfather, mentor, friend, heroic veteran, a talented cook, a man of family, with a great big heart. Alfred Pennyworth had been a man with many facets. He brought balance to this dysfunctional family, he was the peace and voice of reason. Alfred who made Dick stay in bed when he was badly injured and encouraged him to eat proper meals, lectured Jason for his vulgar language, introduced Jason into the culinary arts, trusting him with the top secret Pennyworth recipes, who secretly switched Tim’s coffee for decaffeinated when he had too much, who prepared Stephanie waffles after a night out patrolling, didn’t say a word of the nights she sneaked out with Kara, who enjoyed the company of Cassandra lurking around the manor, when she’s having a bad day he used to watch the stars with her, listening to Cass make up stories about each star, Alfred who never had to fix anything Duke broke because Thomas instantly apologized and offered to fix it himself, Alfred that found intriguing sudden Duke’s interest in gardening. Alfred... who who spend each and every Damian’s birthdays with him ‘every birthday is special and must be celebrated Master Damian’, gifted him a cat because it made him think of him, offered him a cup of hot chocolate or tea sleepless nights. Alfred, who told him he was proud of him. Alfred, who raised him and loved him wholeheartedly until his last breath.

Damian ran his hand down a large polished stone, ‘Wayne’ carved into it expertly. He sighed wearily and stood beside a gravestone, right next to the family stone, he absentmindedly ran his fingertips along the engraved letters.

‘Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth’

August 16, 1943

-

October 10, 2019

‘The light of our household is gone. Leaving only haunting echoes lingering in this home. A place is vacant in our hearts, which will never be filled.’

It was indeed fitting. Their light was Alfred and he was gone for good. For good the words echoed in his head like an incessant prayer. He felt a pang of pain surge through him as he recalled his last moments with the man who raised him. It felt as if his life was torn apart just yesterday.

‘I miss him already.’ Cassandra gestured in sign language, a single tear rolling down her cheeks. Damian didn’t know if she was saying it to him or his siblings, maybe she just wished to get the weight off her chest, when he didn’t think it could, his heart broke even more.

“Fuck.” Jason swore with pained voice, his turquoise eyes blurring with angry tears that he wiped away roughly. Not particularly at his siblings but himself. For not being able to protect the man who offered a ray of kindness to him, who nurtured his severely malnourished body to health. He didn’t blame Bruce or the others. He was supposed to be better, strong enough to defend his father. Dick was a fucking mess in the dirt,embracing the tombstone with all his strength, like it would somehow bring the dead man back to life. Steph wouldn’t stop crying. Tim was silently punishing himself in his own way, and Cass had been in a mental limbo until a a minute ago. Bruce wouldn’t leave his room for Pete’s sake. He isolated himself from everything and everyone, he simply existed in his bedroom. Not surprised. He should be here, saying goodbye to Alfred, who dedicate his entire life to help him, instead of retreating to a dark room and lying in bed, brooding over his problems. Damian. Damian was so young, he looked like hell, devastated as everyone else. Jason could detect the shadow of regret in his green eyes. He’s seen it before because he experienced it and he saw it every day in Bruce’s eyes. But at least Damian was here, dealing with the crude reality and his anguish.

It felt unreal, like this was only a horrible slow-motion nightmare and they would wake up any minute, a sharp knife that bore a hole through their hearts yet they kept on standing still.

Perhaps it was time to fulfill Alfred’s wishes. He wanted Bruce to set his thirst for justice aside and find happiness, maybe a companion, spend quality time with the children, who clearly weren’t children anymore. The youngest being Damian, who just turned fifteen a couple of months ago. He wanted Richard to start a family of his own with Barbara. He wanted Jason to come back home and stop fighting with a Bruce. He wanted a Tim to seek professional help, see a counselor, quit drinking that damned coffee in excess. Stephanie to stop denying her feelings for Tim and give their relationship a chance. Cassandra constantly suppressing her emotions, fearing to get attached, she was human not a machine trained to commit murder when ordered. Duke should leave behind any doubts to forge his own path and accept he was loved by their family. Damian who Alfred loved like his own grandchild, no matter what he did or what type of person he decided to become, Alfred would always be proud of Damian. ‘In the end, you makes you. No one else, Master Damian.’

“How are you holding up, shortstack?” Jason asked him unexpectedly, snapping out of it, he didn’t know how long his mind had been replaying fond memories with Alfred, he felt the weight of Jason’s hand falling on his shoulder, wearing a genuinely concerned expression.

A cold wind passed by, gracing the leaves and making some brief sounds. The wind leaving with a trail in the form of chilly, close to freezing air. Damian weighted the question in his head. There was only ever-growing emptiness in his chest. After a long moment he spoke.

“I will live.” Damian answered softly, eyes completely fixed on the stone. “I’ll miss him, too...brother.” The young Robin unreservedly confessed, Jason looked slightly taken aback at the words Damian muttered. Damian’s emotions were expressed with snarky comments, throwing daggers and knives, making deadly threats and intimidating stares. He had an aggressive and confrontational demeanor. Damian has never called Jason brother, but it made his lips curl into a small smile. Yes, he was his brother.

Damian was vaguely aware of Jason’s body heat now at his side, followed by Richard who was helped by Tim to stand up, his chest sore from sobbing, black suit covered in dirt but he didn’t seem to care. Meaningless material assets, nothing compared to the irreparable loss they suffered hours ago. Steph took a couple of steps closer to them, her eyes, twins pools of sadness, red and swollen, soon the Wayne siblings gathered around their youngest brother. Embracing tightly the teenager into a group hug.

They shared the same deep numbing pain, but it's more agonizing for Damian because he had been there when it happened, they all knew Damian was suffering so much. The feeling ate him inside, consuming and breaking every part of him miserably. But he isn’t alone anymore, he has his family with him. Damian’s tears are hot and travel down his tanned cheeks, he didn’t want to cry but he couldn’t hold it in any longer, the heartache, the loss, agony, guilt, everything was hitting him all at once. It hurt so much knowing full well that Alfred won't wake up ever again from this neverending deep sleep, buried under the ground lonely and cold and breathless. His grandfather.

It'll be just the the eight of them and it is frightening to accept the truth, that Alfred wouldn’t be around anymore to look after them like he did after all these years. Ever since he first set foot in the Wayne manor. He would me missed every single day. Rchard’s heart broke at the sight of Damian in such crumbling state, his characteristic composure fallen and so alien after living together so many years. Damian was broken too. Dick did the only thing he could think of, patted him affectionately on the back, rubbing it soothingly, mumbling quietly “We are here, Dami.” Letting him know they were all there for him in every possible way. They would try to carry our Alfred’s last wish, for them to get along, integrate, be an harmonious family. Be true siblings. Always Alfred’s children. Together they sang farewell to Alfred with broken chords.

I am not sure if I want to edit this later but here s the progress. I might add Bruce’s part later or tomorrow. My tribute to Alfred 💜❤️❤️❤️

@sofiii @chromium7sky @deep-in-mind67

#alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #duke thomas #cassandra cain #barbara gordon #dickbabs #timsteph #batman universe #batfamily #batsiblings #angst and feels #character death #nightwing #oracle #red robin #red hood #batwing #batgirl #batfam #dc fandom #dc comics #dc universe

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Too Bad Santa’s Dead

Prompt: “Too Bad Santa’s Dead” (Bones s3e9)

I know, I know... A Jew writing a Christmas fic... I am confused about it myself. Anywho, here's a fic that was prompted from a line in a Bones episode from a rewatch and... and basically I wrote this in May. I wrote a Christmas fic in May and I'm a Jew so like... yeah. Join the confusion.

Anyway, Merry Christmas to all who celebrate and by the by Tim and Kon are aged-up to at least 18 because yeah.

ao3

“Dude, this sucks.” Kon said as he floated over the dead Santa.

“You know I’m an atheist, right?” Tim poked at the body and finished his oral report on the body and crime scene.

“Hey, I’m only part-Christian but that doesn’t mean this doesn’t suck.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Santa isn’t real, Kon.”

“How do you know? I’m a clone of an alien and an evil corporate super-villain overlord. Santa could be real.”

“He’s not.” Tim snapped.

Kon recoiled. “Okay, it was just a joke.” Tim didn’t respond. Something had clearly upset Tim. Kon frowned, had Tim and Kon never had a conversation about Santa before? They’d known each other for years, not to mention that they’d been dating for around a year. Though, this would be their first Christmas together.

Did Tim hate Christmas?

Why did Tim hate Santa?

“Are you okay?” Kon asked as he floated.

Tim exhaled annoyedly (Kon knew that reaction well) and he stood. “I’m fine. Sorry for being snappy.”

“Are you sure?” Kon asked.

Tim pulled his mouth into a smile. “Yeah.” He was lying.

Which obviously meant that Tim wouldn’t tell Kon why and if Kon wanted to understand him better there seemed to be only one way to figure out why Tim hated the concept of Santa: ask the family. “I’ve gotten everything I’m going to get from the scene and I collected samples. Do you mind if we go back to the Cave so I can run tests?”

For once, Kon didn’t. “I’d love to go back. Want me to keep you company?”

Tim smiled, this time a real smile. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

Dick’s first reaction was: “Someone killed Santa?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Santa isn’t real, Dick. Someone killed someone dressed as Santa.”

“Uh huh.” Dick said. He leaned over to Kon and whispered, “Tim doesn’t like Santa.”

“Yeah, what’s that about?” Kon whispered back. Tim worked without sign of hearing them, they continued to whisper for Tim’s sake.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Not that I can remember.”

Dick zipped his lips. “Not my secret to tell.”

“At least a hint?” Kon asked. “Help a boyfriend out.”

Dick looked at Tim, hesitated, then back at Kon: “It’s not just Santa, it’s also Christmas.”

“Wha-Really?” But Dick zipped his lips again. He walked over to Tim and rubbed his hair.

“See ya, kiddo.”

“Bye, Dick.” Tim raised an eyebrow. “What’re you doing all the way over there?” Tim asked Kon, just realizing how far away from Tim he was.

“Nothing, just thinking.”

“Sit next to me?” Tim asked.

Kon smiled and pulled up a chair next to Tim’s at the Batcomputer. He kissed his boyfriend on the cheek. “Sure babe.”

“EW!” Someone cried, seeing Kon kiss Tim. Tim rolled his eyes.

“I don’t ‘ew’ you when you kiss Cass.” He called to Steph who bounced over to Tim, resting her arms and head on Tim’s.

“That’s ‘cuz we’re gorgeous and there’s nothing to ‘ew.’ You on the other hand...”

“Hey!” Kon cried.

Steph grinned at him. “Not you of course, Kon. You’re just as gorgeous as us.” She winked at him.

“Stop hitting on my boyfriend.” Tim said, eyes never leaving the Batcomputer screens.

“Tim is gorgeous too!” Kon cried outraged.

“You only say that ‘cuz you’re his boyfriend, I’m his ex so I can say that he isn’t.”

“Thanks, Steph.” Tim said.

“You’re welcome.”

Tim switched to his crime scene pictures of the victim and frowned.

“Aw! Someone killed Santa?” Steph cried.

“Santa-”

“I know, I know, Santa isn’t real.”

“Who is not real?” Damian asked, Kon jumped out of his skin. He knew the gremlin was a ninja and all but like? Seriously? Damian hadn’t been there five seconds ago. He pushed Kon and Tim out of the way so he could see the case.

“No one you care about.” Tim said, pushing Damian so he could go back to his past position in front of the computer.

“Dami, see the red suit and the white beard? In our society that is a marker of a man named Santa Claus.” Steph explained.

“Santa Claus is imaginary.” Damian said.

“I can’t believe we agree on something.” Tim muttered.

Wait, Steph had dated Tim before… “Hey, Steph? Can we talk for a moment? Y’know, alone.”

Steph looked surprised. “Yeah, sure thing Hot Stuff. Step into my office.”

Kon stood and they began walking away from Tim when Damian said loudly: “If you are discussing sexual encounters with Drake, please walk farther from my earshot.”

“We’re far enough away that you can’t hear us, Kid!” Steph shouted at him. She turned to Kon, “what’s up?”

“Why does Tim hate Christmas?” He asked softly.  Steph glanced at Tim. “Please, Steph? Help a boyfriend out?”

“You used that exact line on Dick, didn’t you? And he didn’t tell you?”

Kon chewed on his lip. “Possibly…?”

“If Dick didn’t tell you, no way I’m telling you.” Steph said.

“Aw, please Steph?”

“The key to a healthy relationship is communication, Sunshine.” Steph said, patting him on the shoulder.

Kon sighed. “Whatever, thanks anyway.” He went back to Tim but Damian was sitting in his seat, conducting tests. “Dude, move.”

“Find another seat.” Damian snapped.

I can’t believe I’m arguing with an angry munchkin. Kon thought. Tim glared at Damian. He turned to Kon and stood, kissing him on the cheek. As if sensing his anger towards the little man, Tim suggested, “you know what, I’ll see you at home Kon, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Kon asked. He glowered at Damian but the youth ignored him. Tim nodded and Kon kissed Tim again and Damian rolled his eyes.

“Please take your possessive sexual activities somewhere else.” Damian said.

Kon was about to bite something back but Tim hit Damian on the back of the head and Damian growled something at him. Tim went back to the case and seemed to forget that Kon was in the room which was understandable, he always got that way when on a case. Kon guessed he’d go home then. He glanced back at the dead Santa on the screen and got an idea.

“No.” Tim said. Kon frowned, he hadn’t expected Tim to react so strongly. Tim stumbled backward, eyes staring. He tumbled into the wall, his gaze breaking. He turned and walked out.

“Tim?” Kon grabbed a robe, following him out into the cold Gotham night, “Tim, come back! If it bothers you that much I- Tim!” But Tim was nowhere to be seen.

Kon had fucked up. Kon had really, super duper, absolutely, indubitably, and terribly fucked up. Kon was about to jump into the air when a strong wind blew into Kon’s robe. Someone above him snorted. “Wow, trouble in paradise?”

Jason. Great. “Why are you here?”

“To stare at your wonderfully beautiful ass. Or maybe just to annoy Tim’s. I like to keep you heroes guessing.” Jason said. Kon was sure he was kidding.

Kon glared at him. He sat on top of Tim’s apartment building, mask on, leg hanging lazily over the edge of the roof. He looked Kon up and down, physically moving his mask to make sure Kon knew what he was doing. Kon looked down and closed his robe tighter (which probably wasn’t helping Kon’s modesty). “Are you here for a reason? Because if not, I have to go find my boyfriend and make sure he doesn’t want to kill me.” Kon grumbled.

“You really fucked up, didn’t you?” Jason shook his head. “Didn’t you know he has a thing about Christmas?”

“How did you know? You’ve tried to kill him.”

“Oh please, Krypto-Boy, we all have a thing about Christmas. For the demon-spawn and the mute it’s a detachment; they aren’t Christian, they never had a reason to love or want to love Christmas. Christmas was one of the only days Princess Eggplant’s dad was allowed to contact her, which didn’t always give her warm and fuzzy feelings. Not to mention a cheap Christmas and no presents, nothing that you want from Santa. And Dickiebird and Brucie? Well, being an orphan isn’t too fun on a family-centric holiday.”

He hadn’t known. Kon didn’t know what it was like, sure he was lonely and alone. Sure he didn’t know of a family before Tim and Bart and Cassie and Dubbilex and Jim and… but he had Ma and Pa, he had Kara and Clark and he had Lois. He had Christmas. They didn’t.

“And you? Tim?”

“Me? I was a street kid. Christmas meant cold, it meant pity charity from people too rich to care about me except for one fucking day of the year. Then? It meant Bruce and Dick and Alfred and family. And then? Then it meant nothing. But this is about Tim, and Tim? Tim wasn’t like us. Tim’s family wasn’t like any of ours. You’re never going to make Tim like Christmas. Tolerate it? Maybe. But like and love? Never. Just give up on that dream, don’t force him.”

“So? What do I do now?”

“So, you wanted to find out why? Ask him yourself clone. You want to accept that he just doesn’t like Christmas and he never will? Do that. It’s up to you now, Luthor-spawn, make the right choice.”

“Why are you here, Jason?”

Jason stood and brushed off his legs. “I heard Kris Kringle bit it, I thought I might have heard something, I was going to tip off the replacement, but clearly this isn’t the time. Go after him, Wannabe. He needs you.”

Kon nodded. He was about to take off again when Jason added, “and put on some pants. Maybe things are different in Metropolis, but in Gotham ripped dudes flying around wrapped as a Christmas present isn’t appropriate.”

Kon ran into the apartment he and Tim shared and changed, then he closed his eyes and followed the sound of his love’s heartbeat.

“Here, huh?” Kon asked, landing on the top of the Wayne Enterprises Tower.

Tim shrugged, his legs swinging off the edge of the roof. “I like being up high. How’d you find me?”

“It’s not hard, I know you. I know your heartbeat. And I know when I’ve clearly upset you.”

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”

“No. It’s my fault. I knew you were upset about Christmas and Santa and I pushed it too far. I thought... I thought I could make it right. Give you some good memories. Clearly I was wrong.”

“Clearly.”

“Tim, please tell me: what I can do to make it right?” Kon asked. He sat down next to Tim. Tim stared out at the illuminated street below him.

“When, when I was three I learned about Santa for the first time.” Tim began slowly. “I was at pre-school and my teacher asked if anyone knew who Santa was. I was the only person in class who didn’t know. That night, that afternoon really, Mrs. Mac picked me up from school—Mom and Dad were in Africa for Christmas. I told Mrs. Mac about what I’d learned that day, about Santa, and she, and I’ll never forget this, she turned around in her seat with the most pitying look on her face and she said: ‘oh, Tim dear Santa isn’t real.’” Tim stared at his hands and inhaled shakily. “Just like that. To a three year old. I mean, I’d figure it out eventually, but really?” He paused before continuing. “I didn’t really believe her, not entirely. What my teachers and classmates said… it had to be real, I mean Batman was real so why not Santa, right? Well I waited up for him that night, after Mrs. Mac had gone to her family for the holiday, I stayed up. I stayed up and I made milk and cookies and I hid with my camera, a birthday present by the way, under the couch and I waited for Santa to come. And by morning Santa didn’t come, and there were no presents under my tree. And until Mom died that was my Christmas, alone in the house. When I turned five I started buying my own presents, Mom and Dad gave me the money of course, but I bought them. I wrapped them. I hid them under the tree. Christmas didn’t really seem so magical, and soon I just… stopped, all together. After all I could buy whatever I wanted with my parents credit cards whenever I wanted, what was the point of celebrating Christmas?” He finally stopped to breathe. The breaths were thick and his shoulders shook, his voice trembled. “So when you… I don’t want Christmas. I-I know you were trying to be helpful, but I just-I don’t want Christmas!”

“Okay.” Kon said. “No Christmas, promise.” Tears fell from Tim’s eyes and Kon wrapped him in a hug. “No Christmas. Promise.” He repeated.

Tim walked into the apartment on December 24th not expecting what he saw. But it didn’t make him walk out. “You-you cleaned the apartment.” He stated.

Kon grinned. He wore Tim’s favorite sweater for him (it was an S-Shield pattern that Ma had made for him one year) and the apartment was flawless. The mouth-watering aroma of Chinese food filled the air. A blanket lay across the couch and Tim’s laptop was plugged in, laying on top of it. The TV was on and ready to be watched. “What-what is this?” He asked, slightly overwhelmed by the sparkiliness of the moment.

“I figured, since you don’t like Christmas, how about we don’t do Christmas. How about we never do Christmas. Instead we do an ‘us’ night. We stay in, eat our favorite foods, pizza is on it’s way by the way, we marathon Wendy. We cuddle on the couch. Then, tomorrow we can go out on patrol or whatever you want to do.”

“An ‘us’ night?”

Kon nodded enthusiastically. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to. ‘Cuz then we don’t have to. I just thought… since I’ll never be able to give you good Christmas memories, what if we never had to worry about Christmas at all? Y’know do kind of a new holiday, just for us.”

“Just for us.” Tim repeated.

Kon nodded, trying to gauge Tim’s reaction. When Tim said nothing, Kon’s face fell. “Actually,” he said bashfully, “it’s stupid, we can just do nothing, I’ll just-”

“No!” Tim said, freezing Kon in his tracks. “No.” Tim said. “It’s perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And very sweet.” He walked over to Kon and hugged and kissed him lightly.

“Um, excuse me?” A voice said from behind them.

The pizza guy had arrived. Kon paid him and took the pizza from him. He closed the door and Tim and Kon settled onto the couch. Wendy the Werewolf Stalker played and they began stuffing themselves with food. The night wore on until they were out of food and halfway through Wendy’s first season. Kon lay drowsily on Tim’s shoulder while Tim curled the blanket around his feet.

“Tim?”

“Hmm?” Tim asked.

“Where do you want to patrol tomorrow?” Kon asked, yawning.

“What if we... didn’t patrol?”

Kon frowned and sat up, looking at him. “But you love to patrol.”

“And you don’t, and I also love you. This is an ‘us’ day, right? So let’s do something we both like. Maybe head down to the arcade.”

Kon smiled and kissed Tim gently. “I love you so much.”

Tim smiled and laid his head down in Kon’s lap, stretching out on the couch, his legs hanging over the end. “I love you too.”

#diana writes timkon #diana writes #diana writes batman #tim drake #Kon-El #superboy #conner kent #kon el #timkon #aged up!timkon #merry christmas #why did i write a christmas fic? i am not christian